Like Awkward Teenagers
by Beewritestuff
Summary: "There'd never been much cause to call Jo chicken; she was too impulsive to be labeled anything but stupid." Jo is easily goaded. Ash is easily made awkward. Jo/Ash


**Disclaimer: **Supernatural does not belong to me.

**Notes:** I love Ash. I love Jo. i.e. Perfect combination. Prompted by listening to My Sharona on loop for a large period of the day and then reading Anticipating Boxes' _In Retrospect_ and deciding Ash would definitely be a little more awkward than I'd written him thus far. Probably some grammar mistakes, I didn't check this as thoroughly as I ought. Will come back later and fix.

And I've probably ignored all the time lines. I'm okay with that.

* * *

Moonlight shined through the slats on the window shutters; it's past midnight and the bars closed. Jo locked the door for good measure; there's a reason Ellen keeps a shotgun behind the counter and it ain't just for monsters. But tonight was a breeze, only a couple louts making passes and nobody cut off and chucked out the door. She'd even picked up some good tips, though there wasn't anyone about but regulars, all to wise to play darts or games on the dusty arcade machine.

She snatched up empties as she crossed the room, casting a swift kick to the jukebox's side, a sure way to get it playing again. And with the soundtrack of Bangles and REO Speedwagon, cheap pop songs, really anything worth dancing too, she got to work. Jo struts and sings, slightly off key but who's gonna judge, mopping down the counter and, with markedly less enthusiasm, the floors. It's just her and the music, the night air cool drifting in from the screen on the porch. Ellen's in bed down the hall, sleeping sound. It's just her and the night and the music and...

Ash sits on 'his' pool table, fingering the green felt, eyes trained on her like she was a rare bird or a computer virus or one of the girls on his secret stash of fairly tame pornos, whatever it was that could coax Ash to stare at something so intently. She froze mid step, mouth hanging open in a way she knows her Mama'd tell her is a sure way to catch flies, cheeks turning a brighter pink each second. He didn't seem bothered, just waggled his fingers in greeting. "Lo, Jo-jo."

Wiping her hands on the dingy little apron over her jeans, Jo began to twist the still damp bar-rag into a rat-tail, eyes narrowing sourly at Ash, struggling to keep her tone amiable. "Just how long have you been sitting there?"

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of that faded blue jumpsuit that bares pale whey skin and grins crooked. "A while."

Hurricane Jo blew towards him, ice cold and deadly, whirling her bar rag in a threatening fashion. She could do a lot worse with a lot less. "And what, exactly," she gritted out, "do you think you were doing?"

He shrugged, unconcerned, eyes dark. "That's an easy one." Her mouth puckered and he seemed to focus on that for a moment before nodding his head at her. "I was watchin' you dance, skinny legs."

Jo scoffed, lips thinning, one hand dropping to her waist, the other idly twisting her apron ties and tucking the rag half into a pocket. "Haven't seen you all day," she noted. "You just been holed up in your room drinking all day and fiddling with your computer?" If he was drunk, she could consider being lenient on him catching her dancing. Maybe she'd just brain him with the rifle instead of shooting him.

He lifted his head and met her eyes as she drew closer, steady and clear. "Ain't had anything to drink tonight, darlin."

Jo stopped again and blinked. She couldn't place that expression, not on his face. She knew Ash drunk and this sure wasn't it. Knew him angry and miserable, guilt ridden, self pitying, drunk off his ass, higher than a kite, kissing her forehead with glee, flirty. She'd known him since she was fourteen; there had been a lot of Ash to see in the process. This was a look she was more familiar spotting on drunken patrons then Ash. For once in her life, Jo's trigger finger went slack. She had absolutely no idea what to do. Retreat seemed good so she snorted, tossing her hair and crossing behind the bar, putting the solid wood between herself and him.

Ash watched her for a second more before turning his attention to the jukebox, smile sliding off his face like rainwater into it's normal, neutral glazed glare. "Anyone ever tell you, sweet cheeks, that you've got terrible taste in music."

Banter. This was a more comfortable territory. Jo leaned across the bar and grinned at him, sunny side up. "Have you seen your hair? I think that rules you out for any possible advice giving."

He grunted and stomped over to the jukebox, pushing buttons and switching through the tracks until he found something he liked. "Arn't you supposed to be on a date tonight?"

"With that townie?" The corner of Ash's eyes crinkled and he chuckled, but he didn't say a word. "Well, Mama didn't manage to run him off, but, Ash, he kisses like a hound." She pouted at him pitifully. "It's pathetic. I have to wipe my face off and we haven't even gotten to tongues."

He flipped the tab on the top, took a deep swallow, and burped without apology. "I'm sure you could teach him." He scratched his nose idly not seeming to be looking at anything in particular. "You were a pretty good teacher as far as I can recall."

"Teaching you to shoot cans off the back fence is different than teaching him to kiss properly. Much more difficult." She laughed. "Though it did take me two years to get you to shoot right."

Ash chucked her under the chin gently. "I shot just fine. Just you being obsessive." He smiled wickedly at her. "Meanwhile I'd gotten you picking locks and hot wiring cars. Nah. I think it's a problem with the teacher, not the student."

There was a second where she stared at him, frozen. Ash arched an eyebrow contemptuously and that was enough to shock Jo's pride back into action. She leaned across the bar , jabbing a finger sharply in his nose and even, to Ash's great amusement, puffing her chest out a little. "Are you suggesting what I think you are? Because I am a great kisser. There is a reason all those boys come around here Ash, and it ain't for the pool tables." Well, it was partially for the pool tables. Jo was cute, but there where bustier barmaids to be found.

He laughed softly but his eyes had gone a shade darker again, that odd expression ghosting across his face. She was too wrapped up in being rightfully furious to pay mind. "Prove it."

She snorted and waited for him to take a step away, to back down. He didn't, just watched her with a calculated coolness and an unbearably smug smile. There'd never been much cause to call Jo chicken; she was too impulsive to be labeled anything but stupid. "Fine," she leered back. "I will." She leaned forward and planted her lips firmly on his, one elbow propped on the counter, the other cupping his cheek. Easy as pie.

All of a sudden, Jo found herself not in control. Ash, using his height to his advantage, leaned forward, turning her head gently to suit him as he kissed her back, hand supporting the back of her head and tangling in her hair, lips warm and sweet, sucking out her lower lip to give it a light nibble. She gasped a little in surprise and he took it a step further, tongue sliding coaxingly into her mouth, brushing up against hers and sending little electric shocks down her spine. The bar was digging into her chest in uncomfortable ways and the angle for him was even stranger, but he kissed her a second longer, trailing a thumb across her cheek before drawing away. He chuckled darkly and she realized, a little shocked, that she'd leaned after him. Jo's cheeks flamed red and she scowled sourly, wiping her lips. "Liar, you taste like beer."

There was a flicker of something on his face, but he covered it up well, stepping back with a half smile curling up his lips a little. "No second taste then?"

When Jo was fourteen Ash came to the Roadhouse. He smelled like cheap wine and cigarettes and he pulled her hair when she pulled it back in plaits. He called her Jojo. She put up with it. She taught him to shoot cans off the back fence and he drove her into town, without a license, and snuck her into the movies. Occasionally, he payed for popcorn. When she was fifteen, Ash taught her to pick locks and hot-wire cars. She showed him the swimming hole down the road where she went when the summer heat grew unbearable. She got older and Ash got older and closer and friendlier and more protective. He let her jabber on about things and if she got him real drunk, braid his mullet. She persuaded him to stop pulling her hair (mostly). She couldn't break him of calling her Jojo. Sometimes she called him Ashley but it wasn't the same. She smoked her first joint with him and he covered for her when she went out with boys and came home late. He didn't say a word when she swooned after Dean Winchester like a lost puppy and she sure as hell didn't comment on the bimbos that she caught occasionally creeping from his room. He punched the lights out of fellows that got a little too hands-on. He'd been her friend for years. Why not something more?

Pushing her hair back from her forehead she grinned at him sideways. "I didn't say that."

The mask slipped away, Ash eyed her with a certain vulnerability. "No," he finally murmured, slow and easy-like. "You didn't." One hand hooked one of his belt loops, the other scrubbing the back of his head. "Girly, that's a pretty big implication and...well." He gulped a little, adam's apple bobbing like a cork. "Are you sure that's what you mean?"

Jo ducked under the bar and crossed her arms. "You're the genius. You figure it out."

He nodded, putting a hand carefully on her shoulder, like she might kick up dust and run off. "I could do that." His hand stayed planted on her shoulder. He didn't move an inch. Jo wasn't used to that, wasn't used to not having a boy not jump when given permission, and studied him in confusion. His lips where drawn, his eyes shifted over her cautiously.

"Ash?" she mumbled, taking a step closer. He fidgeted uncertainly, so she took it another step in, tilting her head up to look at him properly, forcing him to look down, rendering the distance between their lips quite small. He still hesitated and she smiled a little. "At least tell me if I kiss you, you'll kiss me back."

He heaved a sigh of relief and let her plant her hands on his chest, hands reverently cupping her hips. "I could do that."


End file.
